MORE THAN WAVES, DAY 2 (double sesh), SUN 24JUN2012 EVE

Loc: Churches

Crew: Briana

Time: 1830-1945

Conditions: 2-3, calm, clean, clear

Barf:

     You ever see that couple that’s so into each other that they make you sick? Yeah, that’s pretty much me and Briana for the whole day. After cooking breakfast, we lie out in the sun, drinking beer, just enjoying one another. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever relaxed this much. I mean, usually I’m sitting in a chair, walking around, checking the surf reports, or maybe reading. Nope, today, it’s all about being next to each other and doing nothing. Perhaps looking at the sky, a slight shift of the umbrella to keep the sun out, a sip out of my cup, a kiss, a nuzzle, and then back to the blue sky. Little kids play around us, and there we are, lovey-dovey in the most obnoxious of ways. We don’t even pay attention to the little kids or their parents, but we must be selling the spot because people are asking us how much it costs to get the campsite, and these aren’t even the ones with electricity.

#

     Briana suggests that we go in for a dip. The water’s cold, so she starts heading back up the sand. It’s a classic, cliché Hollywood movie scene. I splash her and chase her up the beach, smothering her with my cold water. I want to pick her up, but I’m worried she’ll lose her bikini or I’ll drop on a stone. When the commotion calms, I realize that four other couples on the beach are watching us. We attracted a lot of attention.

     Once we’re done swimming around, we walk past a young couple. It’s an Asian chick wearing a Fedora hat who’s caked with make-up, and her Marine boyfriend. She says, “Oh my god, you guys actually went in the water. Props!” She gives a huge smile and a thumbs up. Meanwhile her boyfriend refuses to acknowledge. In fact, he looks pissed off.

#

     We resupply for beer and dinner. Fucking perverts are everywhere in the Commissary. These buffneck fire department guys are totally checking out Briana. Well, nothing else for me to do but play it cool. I add the surf bum slouch and flip-flop dragstep. Fuck it, I’m that guy that other guys point to and say, “How in thee FUCK did he get her?” Haters gonna hate, yo. . . . It definitely ain’t the money or the car, I can tell you that much.

#

     Briana has some decent cuts on her feet, worthy for the cobblestone dues that Trestles demands. She’s tired. Surfing wise, this weekend is a lot to ask of a beginner, but we can’t skip the sunset sesh. I don’t know when we’ll be here again. We have to take advantage of it. THE MOMENT!

     I break a promise this weekend. I told her we’d surf Old Mans, but that’s not gonna happen, not when we can get waves to ourselves.

     We paddle out at Middles, but work our way towards North Churches because it’s breaking better over there. I get a random left, pump, set up for a frontside carve, but my JS feels too stiff and drags. I think I could’ve gotten away with the Tokoro. The ride sells the spot, and people start paddling closer. Still, there’s enough for everyone. Briana’s arms are tired, but she gets her rides all the same. We’re progress, not perfection, and she’ll be standing up and trimming soon enough, but standing isn’t even important right now.

     I don’t care about the lulls so long as a wave comes every once in a while. It’s been the theme of the weekend. This trip wasn’t totally about surfing, and neither is this blog. It’s about life and the life revolved around surfing. It’s about friends, people, relationships, family, and loved ones. It’s about expectations, disappointments, triumph, and success. It’s about being human and living in the moment, and right now, I wish this moment could last forever.

#

     Since it’s Sunday night, everyone’s cleared out of camp. What was a day and night of intrusions yesterday has come to a halt. I only see a couple bonfires in the distance far away towards Old Mans. The beach is practically ours. Ours. Our bonfire, our smores, our drinks, our space, our stars, our waves crashing before us into the dead of night. Bundled up on the inflatable mattress in the tent with Briana, I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d want to be. Good night.

    

MORE THAN WAVES, DAY 2, SUN 24JUN2012 MOR

Loc: Middles

Crew: Briana

Time: 0700-0900

Conditions: 2-3, offshore, glassy, clean, clear

     I took a look outside the tent upon waking. The first thing to meet my eyes are the glassy waves a mere fifteen yards away. The surf isn’t rideable here, but it means that the surf is clean everywhere else. Old Mans doesn’t have a lot of people yet and neither does Churches, but I know that “they are coming,” so I decide on Middles again.

#

     Briana’s feet are a little torn up from the cobblestone dance in and out of Churches. She says if she’s lagging in the water it’s because she’s in pain.

     We walk north of Churches. The competition at Lowers is going on which sends some ripper grommets to Middles, but as soon as we paddle out they leave.

     Even though I’m keeping an eye on Briana, surprisingly, there are little waves here and there for me to catch. Usually I do more, meaning I’m more aggressive, even on the small stuff. However, on this trip I’m distracted, and by distracted I mean distracted in a good way. It’s somewhat refreshing. I’m not mad at myself for not getting turns or aggro over the small waves. Instead I just appreciate the present moment, enjoying Briana, enjoying trimming down two to three foot faces that close out without giving me much to turn on, enjoy the sun on my face and the clear sky.

#

     Briana has a hard time paddling out. The surf turns consistent, and it’s a little bigger than yesterday, but she does make it out. Like yesterday, I’m trying to set her up for waves. Again, she’s going for them really late. I mean, the waves are breaking outside, and she’s already paddling towards the inside. I see her face on a big one. It’s funny. Her face lights up, but she’s stoked, catching it on her belly. She gets the longest rides. I hear her scream from the shore. She’s smiling on the way back. That’s all that matters.Once the sun comes out, it’s classic Trestles, just unhindered sun. Even the wind is cooperating, switching south but faint and light. 

     We surf for two hours and do the acclaimed trail back to camp, the trail so special to me and probably any other surf bum that loves this place. Briana says she loves it too. “Good,” I say, “you’re gonna be seeing a lot of this place.”

MORE THAN WAVES (double sesh), SAT 23JUN2012 EVE

Loc: Churches

Crew: Briana

Time: 1830-2000

Conditions: 2 FT, occasional 3, light onshore, inconsistent, clear

     After sushi we settle into the campsite. Man . . . that Coleman Instatent I bought pays for itself, way worth the $162 that I coughed up for it. I was tired of sleeping on the hard ground, despite my military background, so I also bought a fucking full-size inflatable mattress. The only thing that sucks about this site is how crowded it is today. So many fucking people, families, little kids. Don’t get me wrong, people are cool . . . actually, I might be lying here. Anyway, what I MEAN is, I don’t mind people, but I like my space.

     We spend the afternoon drinking beers and listening to music. Once I get loosened up I break into serenading Briana with The New Kids on the Block because . . . I don’t give a shit and because I have some alcohol in my system. I’m weird. She’s cool with it.

#

     It’s 1830 by the time we suit up and head out. We walk to Old Mans, but stop short before the park entrance. It’s blown out and looks like shit. We head back to Churches and paddle out at the south end. 

     It’s a fucking beautiful evening, despite the undying wind. The water’s a crystal blue reflecting off the low lying sun and darkening sky. I try to wave Briana over more north where it’s breaking, but she doesn’t move. I paddle over to see if she’s all right. She has a glaze over her, unaware that it’s even me who’s paddling up. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for bringing me out here.” Here I am worrying about her getting some waves, when she’s perfectly content . . . perfectly content. She laughs a lot to herself, something I realize that she only does when she’s happy.

     Eventually we do paddle more north. On one of the plus set waves, she goes for it and disappears. Worried, I catch the second wave to the inside to check on her. She’s fumbling for her board, but she’s all laughing and smiles. She’s all right. She gets a couple more waves on her belly and knees, but all that matters is the smile on her face and her stoke to be here.

     I surprisingly get my wave of the day. It’s a three foot right, a random bump. I only get a couple pumps and one turn on the lip before it closes, but it goes a long way for the day’s conditions. I get other small two-footers too, all for enjoyment-sake of being on a wave.

     A guy paddles up to us, an older guy. He’s in trunks and a wetsuit jacket. He turns to Briana and says, “Have you been on that board for long?”

     “No, I just started using it.” She motions towards me. “Actually, it’s his.”

     “Oh,” he says. He paddles up to me. “You should get her on something with a narrower nose, something she can whip around more.”

     I smile.

     “It’s so beautiful out here,” he says. “I’ve been watching it all day, and it’s just getting good. There are waves out here!”

     He reminds me of my surf mentor Rick.

     “Look,” he says, pointing out at the sunset. “What’s today’s date?”

     I look at my watch. “June twenty-third.”

     “Oh. . . .” He looks down at his board. Before he paddles away he says, “Happy sunset!”

     Briana paddles up to me. “Come here,” she says.

     I dismount my board. We kiss.

     “Happy sunset,” she says.

     We can hear the old guy talking to us in the distance, but it doesn’t matter.